


Control Issues

by Boy_On_Strings



Series: Spiced to Flavor [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Control Issues, Dom/sub, Jockstrap Kink, Locker Room, M/M, Minor Violence, Oral Sex, Rimming, Underwear Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-09
Updated: 2012-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-29 06:50:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boy_On_Strings/pseuds/Boy_On_Strings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson's got some issues. Scott's got some issues. They try to find a way to deal with them. The locker room is the victim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control Issues

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt:
> 
> They get physical after a fight with Scott dominating and Jackson embarrassed. It can be when Jackson's still human or after he's turned. This pairing needs more

* * *

The burn in Jackson's muscles was intense, just the way he needed it to be. When he was out on the field nothing else mattered. Blood, bone, sinew, and sweat were things that made sense to him. Running on the grass, listening to people cheer for him, that was the only time he was alive. Every other experience in his life was just a series of moments he was enduring. The price he had to pay to feel this when he was back in the spotlight.

Being bitten hadn't altered that, it enhanced it, turned it into something even more pure and visceral. School didn't matter; it was a means to an end. His family was an empty thing, like puppets putting on a show. Jackson danced on strings that someone else had tied to him every moment of every day, except for when he was on the field. In that realm, he was a god and every person who saw him worshiped him.

Control, every second, every moment, it pressed down on him, choked him. Unless he was on the grass with a stick in his hands trying to be better than everyone else he felt like he was suffocating. A few months ago, he almost went down under the strain of it. McCall's rise to prominence had been like a knife in his heart. Someone was trying to take away the only thing he had. Now they were on the same playing field, no unfair advantages. This was his first game as a werewolf and he was unstoppable.

Jackson was the best because he worked for it. Some people thought he was gifted but they didn't know him, they didn't watch him practice in his back yard until his hands bled. No one cared what was behind the curtain; they just wanted to see him win. Now that he had the power that Scott had accidentally been given, there was no comparison. He was back to being the best.

He ducked past the last defender between him and the goalie, spun around the poor kid like the guy had never even played the game before. Jackson wasn't lost to the power of the wolf inside him; he was the master of it, it was another tool he would use to get what he wanted. Scott was weak, driven by passion and instinct that he didn't understand. When he did something spectacular it was an accident and it fucking infuriated Jackson to the point that he couldn't even look at the guy without wanting to grind his face into the dirt.

Jackson sucked air into his burning lungs, feinted as the goalie moved to block him. It was too easy, the guy had no game. Jackson almost felt bad for the kid. He was mediocre at best. Jackson's eyes saw every mistake that a person made, especially his own. That's what he had been taught to do. Find the weakness, capitalize on it, and be victorious. He made the shot, they won the game, everyone cheered, and in that single moment of victory Jackson was happy.

Then it was time to go back to the regular world. He took a breath, brought back up the person he had to be, fixed it in his mind and the face he needed to go with it. Cheering teammates surrounded him, patted him on the back, on the ass, and did all the things a team was supposed to do when they won. He was a part of it, in the same way that he was a part of anything. Like a dancing marionette, moving the way he was supposed to.

"Nice work Whittemore!" the Coach said to him. Jackson nodded, because that's what he was supposed to do. The other players jostled him, threw up hands for high-fives or to bump knuckles together. Jackson matched their gestures. That's what he was supposed to do.

"Nice work out there Jackson," Danny said to him and opened his arms for a hug. Jackson embraced his best friend, because that's what he wanted to do.

"Thanks man." Jackson said.

"What's up with McCall?" Danny asked.

Jackson glanced around and noticed that the other beta was staring at him like he had never seen him before. ' _Suck that McCall,'_  he thought to himself. Scott was back to being in his shadow, that's where he always would be. Werewolf or not, Scott wasn't better than Jackson. Not anymore.

"Not sure, the kid has always been weird as hell," Jackson said to Danny, "probably just mad he didn't score as many goals as I did."

Danny shrugged and let it go, Jackson loved him for it. He knew that Danny had his back no matter what, even when he didn't agree with what Jackson was saying. He smiled at Danny as the goalie waved and headed back into the school to shower.

Jackson headed back towards the school but instead of heading to the locker room he took a detour. He walked the halls and waited until he thought enough time had passed that everyone would be gone. Jackson wanted to spend just another couple of hours soaking in the memories from the game.

He knew he couldn't put it off any longer, he needed to go back and he gave up wandering and headed to the locker room to take a quick shower and get his stuff. He held his breath as he opened the locker room door, enhanced werewolf senses were a double-edged sword, he hoped enough time had passed that there was more soap and less sweat in the air.

His lungs were burning by the time he reached his locker and he finally expelled the air he was holding in and sucked in fresh oxygen. Something overwhelming burned his nostrils, it was spicy and he didn't have words to express it. He liked it though. He closed his eyes and sniffed again, there was something faintly familiar about it.

With his eyes closed and senses blurred by the cloying smell in the air, he was caught completely off guard when a strong hand grabbed the back of his neck and slammed him face first into his locker. He was more surprised than hurt. He wasn't being attacked exactly, just held against the metal.

"Why do you smell so good?" Scott's bewildered voice came from behind him. Scott's body moved, got closer, pinned him up against the locker. Jackson shuddered when a hot slick tongue ran up his spine. "Why do you taste so good?"

"What the fuck McCall," Jackson practically screamed, he tried to push off the locker, felt the wolf shift in him, knew his eyes had changed from blue to blazing green.

The hands on the sides of his neck tightened, he felt the faint sting as claws pierced through his skin, felt tiny hot trails of blood seep down his skin. Scott didn't answer him, just nipped at the sensitive flesh he held in an iron grip.

"You're different," Scott said.

Jackson's pulse was rising, heartbeat increasing as adrenaline pumped through his veins. This wasn't happening, couldn't be happening. He let the wolf out, howled as it came and pushed back against Scott with as much force as he could muster.

The bench was right behind them, the force of Jackson's push caused them both to go ass over tea kettle as they slammed onto the hard locker room floor. Jackson twisted on top of Scott and looked down into pulsing amber eyes. They growled at each other for a moment, eyes assessed each other.

Then hell broke loose. Claws tore through fabric, fangs pierced skin. They rolled around and attacked each other in a vicious frenzy. The bench right next to them was crushed under their bodies, metal of the lockers on both sides of them were dented. Their lacrosse pads weren't meant to absorb slashes and tearing force. Uniforms and pads were shredded as their human reason gave out under the fierce power of the wolves in their minds.

They fought and pushed, bit, nipped, and swiped at each other with their claws. The fight went all through the locker room, metal twisted and wood shattered. Jackson slipped in the water that was on the floor near the shower and when he went down Scott was on top of him with hands around his throat. Scott roared down into Jackson's face.

Jackson closed his eyes and he shifted back to his human body. Scott had him, could hurt him if they continued. His arms dropped to the floor and he gave up. He felt Scott lean in above him. Jackson didn't open his eyes, didn't want to see molten gold staring down at him in victory.

"You're not in control here," Scott told him, voice a feral whisper.

Jackson swallowed his pride, almost choked on it. He tilted his head more to the side, exposing more of his throat in submission. "I know," he said.

Scott was still lost in the wolf, Jackson swallowed nervously. Scott traced the movement with his clawed fingers, leaned in and licked Jackson, nipped at his jugular.

"You like it," Scott whispered against his skin, "I can smell it on you, it's just like when you were on the field."

Jackson was drowning in shame, his breath came out ragged. It wasn't like on the field, on the field he was in control, relished the freedom and purity of it. Here, on the ground under Scott's claws and fangs he wasn't in control. "No." Jackson whispered, trying to deny the feelings rising up in his gut.

Scott nipped at him again, tore the last bits of the ragged jersey away from his torso to get access to more skin. He was inhaling Jackson's scent like it was getting him high. Tongue running along his sternum, fingers around his throat, there was no way that Scott couldn't smell what Jackson was feeling.

"Yes," Scott said, "you love it, love that I'm in charge."

"No…" Jackson said. His voice even quieter than it had been before.

"You don't want to be dominant," Scott said as he bit lightly on one of Jackson's nipples, "you want someone to told hold you down and make it so you don't have to think anymore, don't have to worry."

There were no claws on his throat anymore and that meant that Scott was free of the wolf but he wasn't letting go, he was grinding into Jackson.

"Stop," Jackson begged, "let me go."

Scott licked him again, nipped at his throat and ran possessive hands down his side and gripped his cock that was straining against the jock strap under his uniform shorts. "I'll let you go if that's what you want," Scott said, "but if you want to let go, let someone else take charge…  _roll over._ "

Jackson choked out another breath at the commanding tone in Scott's voice. He knew what he was supposed to do; he was supposed to get up, get whatever was left of his clothes, and run home and not look back. Jackson knew that's what he was supposed to do. He knew it through every part of his body. Jackson was tired of doing what he was supposed to do.

Jackson did what he wanted to do, he rolled over. "Please…" he begged as he twisted underneath Scott's body. He trembled when Scott's teeth came down on the back of his neck, nipping and licking a trail down his spine.

Jackson was panting but the breaths he was sucking in were not as wet and hot as the breaths Scott was taking against his lower back and sides. Jackson got harder when Scott's fingers hooked in his uniform shorts and pulled them down his thighs.

Jackson buried his face in his hands as Scott ran a hot tongue down his spine and licked against him, licked into him. Scott was preparing him, fingers and tongue stretching him out and Jackson wished his legs weren't trapped by his shorts, wished he could spread them more. Scott's fingers caught on one of the straps of the supporter he was wearing and it made the material constrict and rub against the aching needy thing between his legs. His body quivered as Scott got his fingers deeper and hit something inside him that made him howl against the floor.

"Please…" he begged again.

"Tell me you want it," Scott said against his ass, tongue swiping against him teasingly, "tell me and make me believe, and then you might get it."

Jackson was glad no one could see him, shaking, out of control, trembling like a whore under Scott's fingers and tongue. He was glad no one could see how much he loved it, wanted it, how much he needed it.

"Fuck me," Jackson begged, "please… fuck me so hard I don't have to think about anything but how much I want it to keep going."

"Not good enough," Scott said and twisted his fingers against that thing deep inside Jackson that caused him to whimper and beg for more.

"Fuck me." Jackson said, his voice shaking with need, sounding raw and wet. "Fuck me, take me, and make me forget that tomorrow I'm going to go back to being the same person, like this never happened."

Scott's fingers and tongue abandoned him and Jackson's knees and elbows trembled against the floor. He was on the edge of tears thinking Scott had abandoned him when he felt the blunt head of Scott's dick pressing against him; he bit his lips and tried to stay quiet as Scott mounted him.

"This is going to hurt…" Scott said voice thick, "saliva isn't going to be that slick."

"Good."

Scott slammed into him; Jackson's single word seemed to have set off something primal in Scott. Jackson felt pain spike out and obliterate every thought he had as Scott's balls slapped against his ass. A clawed hand seized him by the back of the neck and pulled him off his elbows and back onto Scott's dick.

Jackson grunted at the force of it, loved the burn spreading through him. Scott's body was smaller than his but he was manhandling Jackson easily. Scott's body was delivering what Jackson wanted, making Jackson forget about everything but Scott slamming into him.

"Fuck you're so tight," Scott said and nipped at his shoulder again, tongue sliding hotly on his flesh, fingers gripping his neck with more force, inhaling whatever scent was coming off Jackson like it was a drug.

Scott's hips rolled into him with steady power, the strength of it would have lifted him off his knees if the other beta didn't have such a firm hold on his throat, hadn't shifted it around so the fingers were over his jugular.

Jackson could barely breathe; his legs were shaking with each impact. He panted out, one hand grasping the nearby towel bin, the metal bent under the force of his grip. He tried to use the other hand to get some friction to his cock but Scott's free hand snagged his wrist and held it with almost crushing force.

"No," Scott hissed against Jackson's shoulder, "you only get what I give you." Scott punctuated his point with another rolling impact, dick driving pleasure through Jackson's body hard enough that he thought his ribs were going to crack if it kept going.

"Please," Jackson begged, the ache in his cock was nearly unbearable, he wanted something more, needed something more.

Scott ignored him, kept up a steady rhythm, increased the force of his grip on Jackson's neck, and pulled him back further onto his dick. Jackson whined high in his throat at the power of Scott's hips, groaned under the tight grip around his neck, and tried to pull his wrist out of Scott's grasp.

None of it mattered; Jackson wasn't in control of anything. His body was moving on the strings that Scott had attached to him, tightened and twisted around his skin, and he hated how much he loved it, loved that it was too much and not enough and that he might never move like this again.

"You sound like a needy whore," Scott whispered into his ear, "it makes me want to put you away wet, just so I can hear you whine about how you didn't get enough, didn't get to cum."

Jackson made an alarmed sound deep in his throat, Scott nipped at his spine, took another deep breath, and through it all just kept pumping up into Jackson's body. Jackson started thrusting his hips back, trying to twist his body to get more of Scott's dick, trying to get it slamming into that spot inside of him that would make him forget about Scott's threat.

Scott shifted the angle underneath him and then Jackson was howling again, dick straining in his jock strap as Scott slammed into him over and over. Scott's fingers didn't matter anymore; the grip on his wrist didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. Just Scott's cock tearing him apart, Scott's hips giving him exactly what he needed, when Scott's teeth came down on his spine with enough force to nearly break the skin Jackson came hard with nothing but cloth rubbing his cock, grinding his teeth and thinking they were going to crack with the force of it.

Scott didn't stop, fucked Jackson right through the tidal wave he was drowning in and Jackson couldn't think, couldn't breathe, he slammed his hips down onto Scott, and prayed that it would be over soon and that it would never stop.

Jackson fell forward when Scott released his neck and arm. He barely managed to catch himself before he went face first into the locker room floor. He would have said something if he wasn't just thankful to finally have unimpeded airflow into his lungs, if Scott still wasn't rutting against him feverishly, forcing him fully down onto his belly.

Scott's chest was flush against his back, the skin of his chest felt hot. Scott got his hands up under Jackson's armpits and around to grip the tops of his shoulders. Jackson was getting hard again; his dick was slick from his previous orgasm, still trapped in the now sticky fabric.

The scent of his renewed arousal seemed to be the thing to finally push Scott over the edge. It was too much, finally Scott was howling out against Jackson's back as he shuddered and came inside Jackson's body. Jackson whined against the floor, his cheek pressed into the cement, he was hard again and Scott was done and he was afraid that Scott would do exactly what he warned him he would do. Leave him horny and needing more.

Scott pulled out, gripped Jackson's legs and pulled him over so that Jackson's back was on the floor. Jackson caught a flash of feral looking golden eyes before he closed his own against the sight.

He grunted as Scott got his fingers around the jock strap and tore it off, finally freeing Jackson's cock from the hot, damp prison that contained it. Jackson gasped as Scott's tongue licked up the evidence of his first orgasm. He nearly swallowed his tongue as Scott's mouth closed over the head of his dick and started sucking, desperate to get more of what was in Jackson's balls.

The blonde covered his face with his hands and begged for more, more heat, more tongue, more of whatever Scott was willing to give him. Scott's hands pushed Jackson's legs apart further, pinned them to the floor.

Jackson opened his eyes and looked down into Scott's, propping himself up on his elbows so he could see better. Those eyes weren't golden anymore; they were dark, dilated with lust, and focused on Jackson's face. The image of Scott's lips on his cock, the tight sucking twisting sensation as Scott worked him in his mouth and the sounds that Scott was making as he did it tore through his body.

He tried to keep his eyes on Scott's face as he unloaded again, the second orgasm coming on so fast that it was almost painful. Scott's eyes flashed amber again as he sucked Jackson down making hungry noises around Jackson's flesh not letting any of the fluid escape, licking into the slit to make sure there wasn't any more coming out before finally releasing Jackson from his mouth.

Scott crawled up Jackson's body as it fell back to the locker room floor, boneless and stretched out. Adrenaline drained out of his body and Jackson started shaking, Scott kissed Jackson's forehead, his eyes, his lips, and his neck, nipped lightly at his shoulder and lapped at the skin over his collarbone until Jackson's body went still.

Jackson didn't say anything; just let Scott hold him down and lick at him until his emotions leveled out again. He closed his eyes, put his arm over his face as he whispered, "I've got issues."

Scott pulled his arm away from his face; brown eyes looked down at him and kissed him softly, tenderly. "Me too," Scott said, "I think we're both a little fucked up."

Jackson knew he was supposed to get up, supposed to push Scott off him, maybe he was even supposed to accuse Scott of raping him. He didn't want to do that though; he wrapped his arms around the body on top of him and kissed Scott back. He wanted to just lay there for a little while, he'd figure out what he was going to do later.

 


End file.
